


The Clock Strikes Twelve

by Medie



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've had plenty to blame myself for as well."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clock Strikes Twelve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelsgracie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Angelsgracie).



She wakes to a world hazy and out of focus.

Someone leans over her, their features blurred and vague. She can't make out who it is. She tries to speak, opening her mouth, and they lean closer.

She --

Passes out again.

*

She dreams of fire and tears falling like rain. Coughing, she tries to see through the smoke, but it's too thick. Someone calls her name, but she can't see them. Uncertainty gnaws at her and she moves forward, silence swallows her footsteps.

She's dreaming, she thinks, maybe more. The uncertainty turns to fear.

"Rachel."

The voice is stronger this time, warm and soothing. Rachel follows the sound, letting the woman's voice guide her steps.

"Rachel, can you hear me?"

Leslie. The name comes to her in the same instant as the memory of what happened. Desperation pushes her through the last few layers of consciousness.

She grabs for Leslie, hands digging into the white of her lab coat. "Harvey?" Bruce. "Where is he? Did they get to him? Is he all right?" Are _they_ all right? It's difficult not to blurt it out. Not to ask about Bruce. She remembers that voice, Harvey's, screaming in desperation. Batman's harsher tones yelling beneath.

"Harvey is alive," assures Leslie. "The Batman got him out." She looks down at Rachel, sympathy in her eyes. "Rachel, there's something you need to know."

The gnawing uncertainty returns. Rachel remembers the explosion. Disjointed memories come rushing back. The barrels erupting around her, the force of it sending her tumbling through the air, of the ground rushing up and then the fire licking at her skin, the smell of burning flesh filling the emptiness where agony should have been.

"The sedatives are blunting your reaction," says Leslie. "When they wear off -- "

Rachel closes her eyes. "I'll have other concerns. Harvey -- "

"Doesn't know where you are," says Leslie. "He's still sedated. In fact, no one knows. We thought we were going to lose you – we didn't want the media attention."

"They think I'm dead."

"Yes," says Leslie. "Commissioner Gordon thought it was for the best."

_Commissioner_ Gordon. Rachel would smile, but she can't find one in herself. "He was right."

Leslie leaves her and she falls asleep again.

*

She wakes to a brand new Gotham. The news plays Harvey's 'memorial' and Leslie tells her the truth.

"It's over then," she says. The weight of it presses down on her. If she could run, she would. She remembers her parting words to Alfred. She looks at Leslie, wanting to ask how she keeps doing this, but she can't. Not without betraying Bruce's secret and she won't do it. She's done enough already.

Leslie smiles, a quick, wry twisting of her lips. Her tone is knowing as she says, "My dear, it's only just begun."

*

After that, Rachel's life becomes a seemingly endless cycle of doctors and therapists. The doctors check her burns, making approving noises about her skin grafts, while the therapists smile and talk about appointments.

She lets herself forget everything else, letting herself get caught up in the daily grind.

Until she can't anymore.

*

"Commissioner Gordon." Rachel finds a smile when he walks through the door. "Congratulations. I like the sound of it."

"You'd be the only one then," says Gordon, gruff to cover the nervousness she sees in his eyes. "Do you know how many damn meetings I go to in the run of a day?"

She nods, remembering attending more than one. "Yes."

He frowns, but there's no anger behind it. "You know, a little sympathy wouldn't go astray."

"Why?" asks Rachel. "Because the right man finally got the job?" She leans forward, holding out her hand. "I can't think of anyone better to do it."

He reaches out, grasping it briefly. "I'd thank you, but I'm not sure if the cost was worth it."

"Don't," says Rachel, sitting back. "You can't blame yourself for the Joker."

"The hell I can't." Sitting at her bedside, Gordon matches her posture, leaning in. "All the practice I've been getting lately? I got real good at it."

"You aren't the only one," says Rachel. "I've had plenty to blame myself for as well."

Gordon sits straight. "No. I made the call to keep your survival a secret." He sighs. "I figured, it worked so well the first time -- "

"But I agreed," says Rachel. "When I woke up, I could have ended it, but I _agreed_."

"Ms. Dawes, Harvey's actions -- "

"Hinged on my choice. It might not have been my intent, but it's what happened." Holding his gaze, Rachel looks at him. "My choice led to bloodshed and the nightmares that haunt your children. I have to live with that."

"And so do I," says Gordon. "It's safe now. You could come forward -- "

Rachel shakes her head. "Not yet." She hesitates. "Maybe not ever."

"All right," says Gordon. He sits back, looking at her silently. A minute ticks by, then two, and Rachel can feel the weight of his consideration.

Before she can ask, he breaks his silence. "If I can't convince you of that, then maybe I can convince you of something else."

*

The chair they bring her is state of the art. Better than, really. She wishes the dead could send thank you cards. Lucius Fox deserves one for this.

Gordon keeps pace with her as they leave the hospital and, from there, drive across the city. It's a route so convoluted, she can't keep track, but they end up in a section of the city unfamiliar even to her.

"Home sweet home," says Gordon as the lift sets her down.

"We'll see about that." Rachel looks up at him. "I haven't said yes, yet."

He smiles, then moves to open the door. "The key word is yet."

*

She's never seen anything like it. Rachel isn't sure how long she sits there, staring at the computers, feeling completely overwhelmed. Rachel's always been good with computers, but _this_.

"Well?" asks Gordon.

"I have no idea what to do with this," she says honestly.

"Good."

She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

He smiles. "That means you have a place to start."

*

She finds Crane in three hours and forty-five minutes. The next day, she does it in two. Keeping track of Bruce is harder, but, like everything else new in her life, she learns.

The same way she learns to transfer in and out of the chair, to shower, navigate the tower's occasionally tight corners, and that while the watchtower is owned by the city, its maintained by a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises. She buries that bit of information, wiping out the electronic tracks.

*

It's a month before she contacts Bruce. Batman. Sitting at her computer with the keys beneath her fingers, the glow of the screen on her face, she exhales.

"Not yet."

Oracle hits send.


End file.
